Date: Sun, 13 May 2001 21:44:24 -0400
From: Bart Marshall
Subject: "all in a day's work"
When he opened the door, my jaw dropped. I knew there was a reason I'd
taken this job delivering pizzas on the weekend. It wasn't for the measly
pennies it paid and it certainly wasn't to give me something to do on
Friday nights. No, seeing him, my favorite customer, answer the door
wearing only a shabby towel around his waist-that was justification enough.
I'd delivered pizza to his door many times before. Each and every time I
rang that doorbell, my breath shortened out of-what-lust? fear? excitement?
Who knows.
Whatever it was, I would ring the doorbell and wait. And wait. It wasn't
that he didn't know I was there, I discovered, it was that he just took his
time. He sauntered to the door as if he owned the world. And, of course,
I waited patiently.
He would usually come to the door wearing what must have been a suit at the
start of the day. At six o'clock on a Friday night, all that was left was
the pants, an open belt, a loosened tie, and a button-down shirt with large
sweat stains at the pits.
Yeah, he sweat like a real man. I guess above all, that described him:
man.
He wasn't the most attractive of men, though he was far from ugly. His
face wasn't plain but it was not at all that pretty boy type of beauty of
movie stars. He actually looked kinda mean. He had this permanent smirk
that conveyed any number of emotions, all somewhat condescending, I must
note. His brown hair was always tussled and unbrushed. It met his brow at
a sort of damp crossroads, as the edges of his hair were always dripping
with sweat. His chin came to a sharp angle and, between his eyebrows,
rested a small scar-maybe from a bar brawl or some incident from his youth.
Not that his youth seemed so far off. He was probably in his early
thirties, but he had a coarse gruffness that always made him seem superior
and, I guess, older.
Tonight, however, he answered the door in a bath towel. He looked as if
he'd been on his way to take a shower. He was still caked in the day's
sweat and grime and looked a bit meaner than usual. I was in heaven, as
I'd never before gotten a chance to see his naked torso. It was worth the
wait. He wasn't the most defined when it came to his muscles, but he
exuded a definite strength. His stomach didn't ripple, it was a wall.
His pecs were obvious but they looked as if they'd been created without the
aid of a gym.
A trail of hair peaked out from beneath the towel invitingly. And his arm
pits were host to dark patches of moist hair.
"You're late." He looked at me roughly.
"Yeah. I'm sorry, sir. We were really backed up tonight."
"Well, I was hungry. I can't just sit all night an drink beer without
dinner." I found myself staring at his crotch, which formed a nice-sized
hump under the stretched fabric of the towel. "Are you listening to me?"
he asked.
"Yeah, yeah, of course." I felt foolish. I hoped he hadn't noticed my
wandering gaze. "Sorry about the delay."
"Gimme a second. Wait here."
He turned and sauntered into the house, giving me an opportunity to check
out his butt, which filled out his towel incredibly. I waited by the door
with his pizza for a good two or three minutes until he returned, just
coming into view but remaining a good distance from the door.
"Are you coming or not, boy?" He demanded as his hand found its way to an
armpit and began to scratch lightly. Why was he calling me boy? I was
twenty years old and a student at the local university.
"Uh, yeah. Sorry."
I entered the house and followed him around the corner, where he led me to
the kitchen. The kitchen was small and messy. It had an island in the
center and he motioned that I should place the pizza there. From the
island, I could see a large TV and, in front of it, an old looking brown
couch.
"Here," he said, shoving money into my face. I took the bills from his
hand and noticed that there was no tip included in his pay.
"You gotta earn your tip, boy," he said condescendingly as he smirked.
"You came late and you made me wait. I haven't gotten to take a shower yet
'cause of you. I was afraid to go to the shitter 'cause I thought I
wouldn't hear the bell. I was pretty pissed, to tell you the truth."
"With all due respect, sir." I stammered.
"Don't give me that crap, boy," he laughed as he inserted a hand underneath
his towel. Since there was no room between his waist and the fabric, he
had to run his hand up from underneath, which caused the towel to inch up
and doubled my viewing pleasure.
"If you had any respect, you would have been here on time."
I turned to go, a little annoyed, but very turned on.
"Where are you going? You're not leaving until you earn your tip."
"What?"
His smirk grew as he placed his hand on his towel above his crotch and
squeezed gently. "I've seen you checking me out before, boy."
My pulse began to race. "What do you want from me?" I asked, even though I
knew the answer.
He didn't reply. He just squeezed his cock through the fabric of
the towel. I exhaled. "You want me to suck your dick, sir?"
"Eventually." He laughed again. "I mean, you must have noticed
that I've got more nice features than just my big cock, right? You are a
faggot, aren't you?"
"Well."
"Then you must have noticed my ass. Huh?"
I nodded submissively.
"And my balls? How about those?"
"I've, uh, never seen your balls before, sir."
He immediately ripped off the towel, exposing his cock and low
hanging, enormous balls. Soft, his cock looked to be about four or five
inches and quite thick around. He laughed. "Like what you see?" He
stepped towards me and reached out, cupping the hard prick that rested in
my pants. He laughed even harder.
"You are one horny faggot." I should have looked at the floor but I
couldn't. I just stared at his cock.
"Get to work, fag boy. Go."
I looked up into his eyes, confused. Noting my misunderstanding,
he placed one hand on my left shoulder and, applying minimal force, led me
to my knees.
"Work on that cock, fag."
I didn't need any more encouragement. On my knees, in front of
this Adonis, I knew exactly what I had to do: service him. His cock was
now semi-hard and I brought my mouth to its head. I let my tongue lick at
the head, flicking in and out of my mouth and aiming directly for his
piss-slit. After ten seconds of this, I took the head of his cock into my
mouth. And there, with the head of his cock just beyond my wet lips, I
began to suck on his prick like a baby's bottle, moving my tongue around
the tip as I did.
"Mmm, nice. Good cocksucker." With this encouragement, I went
even further, taking more of his cock into my mouth. I sucked and slurped
at the shaft until I felt the head hit the back of my throat. I backed off
and licked down the length of the shaft to the pubic hair, then circled the
head with my tongue, eventually taking it back into my mouth. "That's a
good fag. Oh yeah," he whispered as he let his head fall back. One of his
arms rested on the island for support, the other rested on the back of my
head.
After a few more minutes of my vigorous sucking, he gripped my head with
his large hand and pushed it on to his dick, forcing me to swallow the
entire length of the shaft, which could have been eight inches at least.
Once my nose rested in his pubic hair, he held me there for a long time.
It could have been two minutes at least.
At first I thought I wouldn't be able to breath, but I just started to
breath through my nose and with each inhalation, I took in the pungent
scent of his unwashed genitals. It was intoxicating.
I almost didn't want him to release me from his lock. It felt nice to
smell his cock as he held my head, gently rocking his hips back and forth.
This continued for a few minutes until he suddenly pulled my mouth of his
cock and stepped back.
"Don't want our evening of fun to end too soon," he said as he walked to
the fridge. Removing a beer from the shelf, he ordered me to go sit on the
couch. I obeyed and waited for him. He sat down next to me and popped the
top off the bottle, using only his teeth. "You like ass, fag?"
"Huh?"
"Don't act like you don't know what I mean, boy."
I swallowed hard, just aching to get back to his thick meat. "Sure I like
ass."
"Then get to work, faggot."
I paused. "On your ass?"
He smirked again. "Yeah, eat that asshole, boy."
"I don't eat ass, sir."
He took a swig of beer and thought for a moment. "Whose house is this?"
"Yours," I answered.
He burped, loud and wet. "Excuse me," he said and went on. "Then why don't
you do as I say? Kneel on the floor in front of me and lick my smelly ass,
faggot."
It wasn't a question. It was an order. And I complied.
I knelt before him on the floor while he sat on the couch, facing the TV.
He lifted his knees and exposed his hairy asshole. I stared at it for a
moment.
"What are you waiting for? Do you need some help?" Before I could answer,
he grabbed my head with one hand and rammed it into his crack. He was
right.
It was smelly. I sat for a moment, my nose buried in his shit-flavored
hole and pondered my situation. I'd never rimmed anyone before and hadn't
planned on trying.
But there I was and I was going to have to do it for him, so I might as
well enjoy it, right? I might as well make the most of it.
With that thought I immediately let my tongue work its magic. I licked at
his puckering hole and all around it. The hairs tickled my tongue, lips,
and nose as I slurped at his hole. "That's right, fag. I knew you were a
born ass licker. Just took a real man to show you that you like it dirty."
He laughed as he released my head. I barely noticed the absence of his
hand's pressure. I just kept lapping at his hole, inserting my tongue into
his shit canal. He was right, I liked it dirty. And his hole was dirty,
sweaty, and smelly as I could imagine an asshole being.
For a long time we sat in that position. I worked his ass and he watched
TV, laughing and drinking his beer, burping every once in a while. At one
point he made me go up and get him a slice of pizza. He was a kid in a
candy store-and so was I. I loved his dirty ass and he knew it.
"You like my shitty asshole, fag?"
"I love it," I gasped, breathlessly licking his hole, tracing the path from
his hole to his balls.
"I thought you did," he said as he patted my head with his hand. Then he
began laughing uncontrollably. Suddenly he grabbed my head, forcing it
into his hole. I found this unusual as he had to have known that I would
lick and slurp at his crack without him forcing me to. But as soon as that
thought crossed my mind, I discovered his rationale.
As my open mouth hugged his crack, he let out an enormous, raspy fart,
filling my mouth with his gas. He laughed on and on as he held my mouth
over his crack and I was forced to taste his smelly fart. As he laughed
on, he farted some more.
At first I was disgusted by his newfound joy. It was humiliating. It is
one thing to suck cock, another to lick ass, and quite another to swallow
the juicy farts of another man. But as he continued to fart, I realized I
was waiting anxiously between farts, nervously hoping that the one I'd just
tasted hadn't been the last. And when the new fart came, I was overjoyed
and my tonguing became more furious.
He must have caught on to this because he released my head from his grip
and let out the biggest fart yet and, sure enough, I inhaled deeply, taking
it in, still tonguing his hole happily.
"You like that, faggot?"
And I knew I did. "Yes, sir, I do."
He smirked as I looked into his eyes. "Take my cock into your mouth, but
don't suck on it."
I was confused but I obeyed. The head rested in my mouth as I look up at
him, searching his face for an answer. His eyes squinted. He was
concentrating on something.
And then I felt it.
The first trickles of piss entered my mouth. My instinct was to pull away,
but he was prepared and he held me firmly in place. The strength of his
stream grew and I swallowed helplessly, drinking his piss like a slave,
swallowing rapidly.
"Drink my piss, faggot. Taste my yellow water, swallow my liquid waste.
You are such a dirty fag boy.
Swallow that." I obeyed his orders.
When the stream finished, he ordered me to suck him dry and I did. I
licked and sucked at his cock until he came. Gobs and gobs of cum landing
in my willing mouth and I swallowed. When he finished he told me to leave
and come back the next night, Saturday night. He said he was having a few
guys over for beer and poker.
He told me to rest up. I was thrilled.